The Stage is Set
by Inglourious Basterd
Summary: Two years after the war, our leading man becomes the target of headhunters from Rozarria. Basch, our supporting role, receives word that Balthier is in need of assistance, proving the situation to be more serious than it seemed. Progression of Balt/Basch
1. Overture

The difference between a hunter and a headhunter is simple. Hunters go after marks, normally creatures – wyrms. A headhunter, however, hunts fugitives and criminals. A headhunter's mark is given by a government or city and the reward for completing a hunt is often far more gracious than those of a regular hunt's.

A hume had to do something pretty incredible to become a headhunter's mark. Or just piss off the right people. And those people would probably be of the city which was the headhunters' heart and soul: Rozarria.

"Judge Gabranth?" A young soldier walked quickly, taking long, deliberate strides. He slowed as he approached the older man and gave a stiff bow.

"Hm?" was the Judge's answer. He looked over distractedly and nodded at the boy. "Yes, Corau, what is it?" he asked, turning to face the messenger.

"Sir," the boy soldier saluted, "Lord Emperor Larsa asked me to retrieve you. He was last in the east courtyard, taking tea." The Judge nodded. Larsa was quite the lonely young boy, and the Judge never strayed far from his side for long. Not because there was a lot of protecting to do, but because he knew Larsa would then have no one he could trust to confide his ideas and frustrations to. He trusted the new Gabranth just as much as he had the old one.

"Thank you, I will go to him now," Basch grabbed the helmet from the desk and walked past the messenger. When he had almost reached the doorway, the boy spoke again.

"Oh, sorry sir, I forgot to mention…" he dipped a hand into the pocket of his trousers and fished out a folded piece of parchment. "This came for you, sir," he held out the piece of paper and Basch took a few steps back towards the boy to take the paper from him. He looked at it curiously. It was wrinkled and had no seal. The letters he normally received were much cleaner. He tucked the paper into the crevasse of his armguard and nodded.

"My thanks again," he said emotionlessly, and turned and walked out.

It had been two years since Lord Larsa took the Archadian throne. Two years since Basch parted ways with his company whom he had grown quite used to, and – though he hated to admit it – quite fond of. He received the occasional letter. Several from Ashe, and Penelo often wrote to both Larsa and him, and once he had even received a very surprising letter from Balthier. They all had. And it had come as quite the shock to them all. After the fall of Bahamut and without word at all from either Balthier or Fran, the party had no choice but to assume the slick duo had not made it out in time.

Vaan and Penelo had received the news after the _Strahl_ was stolen, and Ashe received the news with Rasler's ring. Basch had received a simple letter saying: _Worry no longer, the skies remain menaced. The leading man never dies._ The cheeky bastard.

Of the entire party, he had only seen Vaan and Penelo since Larsa's coronation. He had aided the two with a difficult hunt in the Cerobi Steppe outside of Archades.

Basch entered the courtyard with the constant, but gentle, clink of his armor. Larsa sat beneath a shade, at a white table. On the table were several books and papers scattered about, and although Larsa swore to be an organized fellow, it was not the case when he was studying. He heard Basch enter but did not raise his eyes. "Good afternoon, Gabranth," Basch stopped several yards from the table.

"Lord Larsa, I would ask of you to use _my_ name when we are alone," Basch stated. He had to go by his brother's name in order to assume his role as Judge Magister, but it made Basch uncomfortable. He felt it somewhat…disrespectful. Although he knew full well that Noah would have it no other way. But Larsa knew who Basch really was, and he longed to hear his own name from time to time. Larsa would provide him with this comfort often, but every once in a while, he grew too used to calling him by his twin brother's name.

Larsa looked up at this. "Excuse me, Basch," and he smiled. "Here, have a seat," he nodded towards the chair in front of him. Basch obeyed. "You should hear about this legendary crystal. 'Tis said to be in the depths of the Necrohol of Nabudis. It is very interesting," he sipped his coffee.

"You've been delving more into legends and myths than facts as of late, my Lord," said Basch. He then remembered the letter and drew it out of his armor absentmindedly.

"I suppose I have," Larsa smiled.

"Hm." Basch unfolded the letter, still looking at Larsa. "Perhaps because legends call for investigation. Is the Emperor getting a bit restless?" and the corner of his mouth twitched in a faint smile. Larsa chuckled and Basch then turned his eyes on the letter. Larsa blinked and looked curiously at the parchment.

"One from the long lost heroes?" he inquired. His brows furrowed when he saw the Judge's face drop. "Ga – Basch, what is it? Not bad news, I hope?" he said, putting down his pen.

"Yes. Well – no. Not sure…exactly. I suppose it's not exactly _good_ news," Basch handed the letter to his charge and stood up. Larsa read through it quickly.

_My dear _Gabranth_, it seems my partner and I have come across a bit of trouble. Your presence would be most appreciated. No worries, alive and well. Don't feel the need to go out of your way for an old comrade if you're quite busy._

_-The leading man_

And below this, was more, scrawled in a different hand, obviously Fran's. It would seem she felt Balthier's letter was not at all informative enough.

_Headhunters from Rozarria are tracking Balthier. I fear they will not stop until they capture him. He is a fool. We know not how to deal with this but to run, but these dogs only give chase. We wait at Windmill 9 of the Cerobi Steppe until we have reason to flee yet again._

"Your sky pirate friend," Larsa looked at Basch. His face held a mixture of annoyance, exhaustion, and what seemed to be a spark of excitement? Larsa assessed this quickly. Yes, of course. This letter seemed to hold the promise of an adventure that Basch had not experienced since the war.

"In trouble. How fitting," he shook his head. "Well, it doesn't sound too serious. Not for him anyways. I'm sure he'll find a way to make the whole situation disappear as usual." Basch looked at Larsa. "Lord Larsa, may I –"

"You should go," Larsa nodded, glancing over the letter again. "You're right. It doesn't seem too urgent, but…then again, I don't know these two as well as you do, but is the sky pirate's partner one to ask for assistance very often?" he queried, wiping the dust from one of his books.

"Fran?" he looked past Larsa. "No, I suppose not." He thought for a moment, then looked at Larsa again and nodded. "I will go. Will you be alright until I return?"

"Of course. I'm quite capable of taking care of myself for a while, Basch."

* * *

Basch had a while to himself to think on his journey to their meeting place. He hadn't thought much of his old comrades in a while. Perhaps because it only brought nostalgia and nostalgia only made him restless. He thought of Ashe and had a strange feeling. Like an old, lost longing trying to resurface. He had always thought of the then-princess in a special way. He had protected her with a feeling beyond Dalmascan loyalty. He shook his head as he traveled the Cerobi Steppe. He was way out of his league. Yet, Ashe still sent him the occasional letter, and sometimes he thought she hinted that, though there may be no trace of it left now, she also may have felt the same for him during their time together.

And then he thought of Balthier. Balthier and Ashe. He wiped his brow and tsked at himself for feeling a small twinge of childish jealousy. Basch knew that Balthier's nature was to be charming and a little flirtatious, and so he was with Ashe. But he felt that Ashe may have fallen for the man's smug manner. And why not? He was young, handsome, witty, and devil-may-care. Even gentlemanly. An aristocrat. He recalled a time during their journey two years ago. He recalled it because the amount of jealousy he had felt at the time had been overwhelming. Thinking back on it, he felt he was one step away from confronting the pirate with his anger. But Basch was a man of honour. And really, the encounter was innocent.

Balthier had been standing very close to Ashe. They were in the Pharos Lighthouse, taking a short break, and Ashe had been worrying over her upcoming decision. Balthier leaned in towards Ashe, ducking slightly to peer at her face. "Worry does not become you, Princess. Those beautiful eyes are beautiful the more when you smile," he tilted his head rakishly and winked before leaving her. He left her blushing, and she turned her eyes away, putting a hand to her cheek. Surely she had held feelings for the rogue.

Basch's thoughts and daydreams quickly vanished at the sound of fighting. It was far away, and very faint, but he could make out the sound of metal and gunshots. He could not tell the direction of the noise for the echo in the land, but his fears were confirmed by the orange flash of magic ahead. It came from the direction he was headed. The direction where Balthier and Fran waited for him.

Basch immediately broke into a run. His heavy armour weighed down on him, slowing his progress. He ripped the helmet from his head and tossed it aside, gasping for breath, his short cropped hair damp with sweat. It was a good fifteen minutes before the windmill was in view, and the noises had stopped a few minutes before. Basch could see an airship flying away at full speed, but it was not the _Strahl_. As he came to the windmill's door, he drew out his greatsword. Inside was a flight of stairs. He looked up, shielding his eyes from a shaft of sunlight searing through the cracks in the wood. "Balthier!" he yelled up the stairs. He thought he could hear a hushed voice from above and a shuffling.

"We are up here." Fran's voice sounded a little strange. Basch's ascent was loud and his breathing heavy. When he reached the top, he glanced to the left and advanced, but stopped short when he saw the red streaks. When he saw Fran kneeling, and Balthier laying in a pool of fresh blood. Fran gave Basch a quick look. "I fear he is dying," she said bluntly, but with a hint of fear.

Basch found he could move his legs and he ran to the pair, dropping to his knees on Balthier's other side. His hands hovered over the younger man, shaking, not knowing what to do. Balthier was conscious and looked up at the ceiling with wide eyes. His hand was pressed to his neck, wet with blood so red that it almost looked fake. "Balthier!" Basch shouted, clueless as to how to save the sky pirate. Basch shouted, as if to be heard above the fear: "How did this happen?"

* * *

The door to the windmill was kicked open in a flurry of dust and splinters. Balthier stepped inside quickly and was greeted by a shocked and frightened young man. Behind Balthier, Fran entered and stood in the doorway, keeping an eye out behind them. The young man, dressed in simple clothing and carrying a box of tools, took a step back. Balthier eyed him and beckoned him over urgently. "You. Boy. How about earning some extra gil?" and the pirate took out a piece of parchment that he had stowed in his pocket earlier knowingly. "You wouldn't happen to have a writing utensil, eh?" Balthier raised an eyebrow at the boy.

When Balthier had finished writing the letter, he folded it up. Fran closed the door with some effort and saw the piece of paper just as Balthier was handing it to the stranger. She reached forward deftly and plucked it out of his hand. "Excuse me," Balthier gave her a look, "I'm only taking your advice, darling." Fran read through the note.

"You do not even explain the situation."

"Well I'm not going to try and guilt him into helping us out. Bribery is what that is. At least with what I wrote, he has the _option _to refuse," Balthier explained in a matter-of-fact way. The young man looked from the pirate to the viera, finally settling his eyes on the latter of the two. Fran took the pen from Balthier and scribbled her own message beneath Balthier's.

"Your pride will become your downfall," she said simply and then held it out to the boy. He stared at Fran and slowly took it from her while Balthier scoffed and made his way halfway up the stairs to make sure the windmill was empty besides the three of them. "Will you do us a favor and deliver this to Judge Gabranth of Archades?" Fran asked. The boy looked up from the folded piece of parchment.

"A message for a Judge?" he asked incredulously, speaking for the first time. Fran nodded.

"We will pay you, of course."

"What?" Balthier's voice traveled down to them but he was too far up for them to see. "No, no, I've got a better idea. Why don't you have Judge Gabranth pay you for the message instead? I'm sure you'll get more gil from him than you could of us," Balthier suggested mischievously. The boy turned his head from the stairs and looked at Fran, as if for permission. Fran looked down at him.

"Will you deliver it?" she asked again. The boy nodded, his mouth hanging open. "Good. Then be swift," she opened the door for him. He hesitated a moment, then ran outside as fast as he could, almost tripping over himself in the process. Once he had gone, Fran ascended the stairs after Balthier and found herself in a dusty attic of a room with nothing but a rickety chair and table and two streaky windows. Balthier sat on the floor close to one of them, holding his gun in his lap. His head was leaned back against the wall and his eyes were closed. He felt Fran enter the room (for there was nothing to hear) and his lip twitched.

"All this running and flying about for three days straight tires a man out," he opened one eye to look at Fran. "Even heroes need to rest," he continued lazily. Fran walked up to the window beside him and stared outside at the Cerobi Steppe. Balthier closed his eyes again and breathed deeply, his muscles relaxing. "I'm...just resting...my eyes for a bit, Fran," he started to mumble, "I'll keep watch and...you can...take a break, mm?"

Fran turned her head slowly to the sky pirate. His mouth hung slightly open and his chest rose and fell peacefully.

"Balthier! An airship!" Fran's cry combined with the sudden shatter of glass woke Balthier with a start, sending an electric shock through his spine that rose him immediately to his feet, his hand gripping his gun tightly. Fran shot an arrow towards the window beside Balthier and a hume staggered back. With a crash, the other window broke, and the pounding of footsteps ascending the staircase surrounded the hunted pair. Balthier cursed aloud. The wounded hume raised his katana and swung to the side at the sky pirate. The sword clashed against his Fomalhaut and Balthier swiped at the man's feet, bringing him to the ground.

"Git the pirate! He's the one we're after!" growled one of the four who swarmed in from the staircase. Fran swiftly shot a barrage of arrows in their direction, but they had shields, and another came from behind her, from the second window. Balthier shot and the bangaa fell limply to the floor. The pirate found himself much too close for comfort with five headhunters, the fifth climbing through the window with a battle-axe. Fran grabbed an arrow and sliced a hume's arm who got too close with his dagger. Another received a bullet in his shoulder and gave a cry of pain. Balthier's fight quickly turned into fist versus steel as four headhunters tried to take hold of him at once. Fran grabbed the smallest of them from behind and flung him aside. He fell and she shot an arrow through his heart as he reached again for his sword. "Someone just fucking grab 'im!" the wounded spearman shrieked.

Balthier felt hands around his waist and he gritted his teeth, kicking backwards sharply and hitting the man in the knee. He heard a crack followed by a blood-curdling scream. One of the headhunters had already fled down the stairs. Fran followed after him, down the stairs, casting fire at him from behind. She was awarded with a terrified cry and the light of flames. He ran into the windmill door, but found the handle and fled. Fran glowered after him but looked above her again when she heard frantic curses and thuds.

"This ain't worth my hide!" one of the men shouted and retreated through the window.

"Get the hell back here, Goutef!"

"Wait for me!" the wounded scrambled after Goutef.

'You idjits!" the boldest hume berated them. Balthier quickly raised his gun, but as the hume raised his shield at the same time, the Fomalhaut hit against the shield and fell to the floor.

"Balthier!" Fran called as she ran back up the staircase. His sudden disarming caught Balthier off-guard and the hume struck him on the side of the face with his broad shield, causing him to stagger back. The hume jumped at the opportunity and reached for the pirate.

"Let's git outta here, Tsaneo!" a bangaa climbing out the window shouted to the assaulting hume. "We've got ta take 'im alive and 'e ain't comin' alive at this rate!" he urged. The hume grabbed Balthier by the hair and raised him up, pulling his head back. Fran reached the top of the stairs and stopped. The man held a dagger against Balthier's throat and spoke down to him.

"Yore caught now, sky pirate!" the hume spat. "Just come with us peaceful-like and I'll leave yore pretty neck unmarked!" he sneered. Balthier swallowed audibly, his eyes squinted in concentration.

"That's not really an option, old chap," Balthier answered coolly, and from his belt, he revealed a knife of his own and sank its serrated blade into his enemy's thigh. The hume swore in another tongue, but did not release Balthier. Fran took a step forward, but in one swift movement, the hume drew his blade across the pirate's throat. Balthier stared at Fran, pure shock written across his face and his mouth moved as if to speak. His partner dashed forward as his attacker fled with the other headhunters out the window. Balthier staggered and raised a hand to his throat. He looked at it, soaked in blood and staggered back, hitting the wall behind him. Fran was before him now and she held his shoulders.

"Balthier, look at me," the viera ordered. The sky pirate's eyes were still wide with shock and they focused in and out. He pushed against Fran's arm and tried to walk away from the wall but tripped and fell, catching himself with one hand which quickly buckled and left him face-down on the dusty floor. Fran was at his side in an instant. She rolled him over and held his face, looking into his eyes. He looked back at her and choked, blood coating his lips.

"I..." his voice was faint and strained, "I'm...sorry," he choked again. Fran looked back at him, unresponsive. He struggled to regain his voice again, blood spilling through the fingers clasped around his throat. "I didn't...even...give you a," he took a painful breath and the blood in his mouth gargled, "a chance...ha...to rest."

* * *

"They cut his throat before they fled with their own injuries. A cut to the throat is quickly fatal," said Fran. Balthier's eyes narrowed and Basch thought it was maybe at Fran's despondent words. He tried to speak but only choked noises escaped his lips.

"We need to get him to Archades. They may be able to take care of him there," Basch spoke quickly. His hand hovered over Balthier's which was wrapped around his neck.

_Whose voice was that?_ Balthier's eyes roved to his right but he couldn't get a clear view. He rolled his head in that direction and squinted his eyes. He could see the face now, the familiar scar. He looked different, though. His hair was short, his facial hair trimmed, and he wore an expression that was so foreign to his face. _What was it? _Balthier wondered.

"It is not good to move him," Fran muttered.

"It's his only chance," Basch gritted his teeth and fumbled for the bandage he carried with him along with a few other medic supplies. He grabbed Balthier's bloody hand and removed it from his neck, although Balthier resisted. Fran took the bandage from Basch as the Judge lifted Balthier's head, allowing Fran to wrap the gause around his neck. Basch kept hold of Balthier's hand. He held it firmly, a little disturbed at how limp the pirate's hand was.

"I will carry him. On my back," he said, shifting his back to face Balthier, still crouched. Fran nodded and held Balthier under his arms, lifting him onto Basch's back. He gave an airy groan and his arms dangled over Basch's shoulders. The Judge stood, bringing Balthier up with him. He started to move towards the stairs but Balthier would not allow it. He pushed against Basch rebelliously and fell to his feet, stumbling. "Hey! You can't walk on your own!" Basch growled at the stubborn man, reaching for him. Balthier swatted the hand away drunkenly.

"Balthier," Fran's voice begged. Instead, Balthier straightened up and gave them both an arrogant look, one hand on the already red bandage around his neck, and turned to the staircase. With his other hand, he balanced against the wall and took a few steps down the stairs. Basch and Fran hurried after. Balthier slumped and Basch put a hand on his shoulder. Balthier retaliated by swinging his right arm back. This caused him to lose his footing and he fell forward. Basch lunged and caught the man with one arm, holding the wall to steady himself with the other, and as he held him close, Balthier's head fell back and his eyes closed.

"Balthier!" Fran and Basch shouted fearfully in unison. Basch, essentially sitting on the stairs, let go of the wall and held Balthier's head in his arms.

"Is he unconscious?" Fran asked. Her voice hitched; betrayed her. Balthier's eyelids opened barely, only enough for Basch to see.

"He's lost a lot of blood," Basch looked back at him, wishing he could fully see his amber eyes, regretting suddenly that he couldn't recall their pattern. He hoped that he would still have time to memorize them. He hadn't had the time or the drive to get to know his comrade earlier, but now that he was faced with the thought that he may die soon, here, in his arms, he regretted that in actuality, Basch hardly knew him. Basch shifted the man onto his back again and climbed down the stairs with a will. He wouldn't let Balthier die. When they exited the windmill, they were met with the sight of feral beasts stalking all about the Cerobi Steppe.

"I will keep them at bay." An arrow was already notched to her bow. Basch grunted thankfully and ran ahead. Balthier was heavy; after all, he was a grown man. Though he was not very large, (Lean and toned, but not bulky), the dead weight started to take its toll on Basch after a while. He gritted his teeth and ran on neverthless, never slowing, aware of the wetness that dampened his shoulder, where Balthier's head rested, and trickled down his chest. The bandage hadn't done a lot of good.


	2. A Moment's Peace

**Well, here's Chapter 2. I'd love to hear feedback, good and bad!**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

He felt…content. Peaceful. Like everything, right now, was okay. Maybe it was the smell. It smelled faintly of galbana lilies, but also a different scent. One that was warm and familiar but he couldn't place it. A mixture of earth and rust. Or maybe it was the bed he was lying on that made him feel this way. Or maybe the slight, warm breeze against his face, probably from an open window. Or maybe it was the fingers stroking his dark blonde hair. He made a muffled, contented noise and his head moved. The hand stopped momentarily and the earthy smell grew stronger. _What was that smell?_

The hand was removed and the innocent little smile that had started to form on the corners of Balthier's lips vanished. Suddenly, he was aware of a pain. A burning pain in his neck. He raised a hand to it but it touched cloth instead of skin. A bandage. Balthier opened his eyes and was greeted with ceiling beams and a small, unlit chandelier. His breath hitched and he groaned, his fingers grabbing at the bandage, eyes squinting shut.

Someone grabbed his hand, pulling it away from his neck. "You should leave it," said a deep, husky voice. Balthier tried to turn his head and winced. Instead, he turned his eyes and glimpsed Basch, sitting beside his bed. Balthier smirked and laughed hoarsely, closing his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" Basch asked.

"Well, if you mean better than when I was bleeding all over myself and stumbling down staircases, then yes, quite," Balthier's voice was weak. He tried to reach back to his neck but realized Basch was still holding his hand quite firmly.

"That's good. Sounds like you're back to your old self," said Basch, somewhat distastefully, releasing Balthier's hand and leaning back.

"Did I acquire a new self in the past…how long has it been?" Balthier asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Two days," Basch answered.

"Only two? I had hoped I'd wake up and be able to leave straight-off," Balthier sighed. "This is not becoming of a leading man," he grumbled. He sat up painfully, gripping his neck and looked down at himself. "What's this I'm wearing?"

"I thought you'd prefer real clothing rather than the hospital gowns they originally dressed you in. These are mine. You can borrow them for now," Basch explained. Balthier picked at the sleeves of the white shirt. It was similar to his own. Less baggy. Balthier wondered fleetingly what Basch would look like wearing this shirt. Unnatural.

"Hospital gown, eh?" his voice was still roguish and sarcastic. "Must have looked pretty dashing. Couldn't wait to undress me, I'll bet," he yawned. Basch gave him a strange look, then sighed. Ever the narcissist.

"Fran dressed you," Basch stood and looked out the window. Balthier shrugged. It didn't surprise him. Basch watched the traffic of the Archadian gentry outside for a while. The air was comfortably warm with a nice breeze. The galbana lilies outside of the window provided the room with a fresh, sweet scent. Basch turned. "Balthier, you –" he stopped. Balthier was sitting up against the headboard, his eyes closed, dozing softly.

Without so much as a creak from the door, Fran was suddenly beside Basch. "He has moved," she said quietly. "He was awake?" she looked plainly at Basch.

"For a moment."

* * *

_That smell._ It was overwhelming. Balthier was breathing in the smell. It was all around him, and he felt warm and safe. The smell was right above him. He raised an arm, still half asleep, and felt metal. He turned his head just slightly to the left, where the smell was strongest, and inhaled deeply, audibly. Balthier opened his eyes and realized Basch was leaning over him, apparently trying to change his bandage, and Balthier's face had turned into the crook of the older man's neck. Basch looked down at Balthier, bewildered at the sky pirate's action. Balthier looked back at him and there was an awkward silence.

"You smell like dirt," Balthier said finally. Basch sighed and finished unwrapping the bandage from around the pirate's neck before leaning back. He was sitting beside Balthier on the bed. Balthier reached up to touch his neck. For once, Basch didn't stay his hand. Balthier felt the new scar and swallowed grimly.

"Well? How does it look? Heroic? The ladies love battle scars," Balthier mused in good spirits.

"Looks healed. For the most part," Basch stood up. Balthier sat up and ran a hand through his hair smoothly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and taking to his feet.

"Where's Fran?" Balthier asked in a serious tone. Basch opened the door.

"I believe she's outside again. She doesn't stay inside very long."

"Oh, good. I could use fresh air," Balthier stretched.

Fran was more kind than usual. Balthier had known her for years and the two were very close, but she still always remained aloof and emotionless. That's just the way she was. But now, obviously due to the incident that had occurred a week ago, Fran was openly kind. When he first woke to see her a few days ago, she even kissed his forehead. It was the greatest form of affection Fran had ever given to anyone. Balthier had smirked and made a smug comment about her beautiful, earthen skin being a sight for sore eyes.

"You are a fool," was Fran's reply, and she had left him.

Now, her fingers stroked the sky pirate's neck. It must be the 'Viera's touch' because the small amount of pain that lingered on his throat dwindled and he was left with the cool, soothing touch of her long fingers. Maybe it was the mist pouring from her fingertips. "You are very lucky," Fran said.

"Yes, yes. Well, I am the leading man after all. Invincible." Fran gave him a dangerous look. Balthier breathed deeply and pushed Fran's hand gently aside.

"Let's go, Fran." He stood.

Fran raised an eyebrow. "You are ready to leave?" she asked.

"Of course. I feel great, now let's get on. I feel like a charity project here," he sniffed indignantly, picking at Basch's shirt sleeves. Fran stood up.

"I will get your clothes," she said and disappeared. Balthier found his way back to the room he had been recovering in and looked through the drawers, finding his gun, holster, and jewelry. Fran entered briefly to set his clothes on the bed and once she left, he changed.

The door slammed open then and the blonde Judge Magister entered hastily. "Balthier! I –"

Balthier turned, buttoning his pants. "Judge Gabranth, splendid timing, I've just slipped on my trousers," he smirked sarcastically and began putting on his multiple earrings. Basch stood just inside the open door. Balthier was bare-chested, wearing only his dark, leather pants. He was even barefoot. Basch noticed the curves of the lean muscles in his back, and how slim he was at the same time, and how narrow his hips were. Basch himself, on the other hand, was large and he had the kind of muscles that were built as if from bench-pressing. Balthier looked more like a runner. Balthier was putting his earrings on in front of a mirror and saw Basch watching him. "Enjoying the view?"

Basch looked away. "Excuse me, I'll come back later," he backed away.

"Don't bother. I'm decent. We're both grown-ups aren't we?" Balthier looked back at him. Basch didn't know Balthier had a nipple ring. But wasn't at all surprised. "What was it you wanted?" he played with his hair, looking into the mirror again.

"I, uh, I spoke to Fran. She said you two were leaving."

"Indeed we are," Balthier turned to get his shoes and shinguards, walking past Basch and glancing at him. When Balthier did not continue, Basch did.

"Are you sure you're well enough? I don't think it a good idea. 'Twas a bad wound you had and it may not have entirely healed yet," Basch explained his concern in his deep, harsh voice. Balthier put on one of his shoes.

"I think I'll be alright," was Balthier's only response. He finished putting on his shinguards and reached for his shirt, but Basch caught his arm. Balthier looked up at him with a flash of annoyance. "Excuse me. I'm getting a little tired of you staying my hand like I'm a child."

"What did you do?"

"What are you talking about?" Balthier pushed Basch's arm aside and grabbed his shirt.

"Those headhunters are after you for a reason. What did you do?" Basch was dangerously close now. Balthier grimaced at him and turned aside.

"None of _your_ business, that's for sure."

"You're wrong! It _is_ my business now. You dragged me into this, and I want to know why this all started!" Basch grabbed Balthier's shoulder and turned him back. Balthier was glaring at him.

"I don't appreciate being assaulted, thank you, Judge _Gabranth_," Balthier sneered. Gabranth. Again. Basch winced and took a shameful step back.

"My apologies. I lost my temper," Basch looked down at the floor.

"Yes, I know," Balthier scoffed. There was a long silence. Basch didn't move, still waiting for an answer, and Balthier rolled his eyes.

"Judge Heradarr of Rozarria. I met his young daughter in a tavern. Must have been about sixteen or so. Anyways, she talked a lot. But besides her incessant chattering, nothing happened. She went home, though, to her father and obviously claimed she was in love with the devilishly handsome terror of the skies, Balthier Bunansa," Balthier winked at Basch. "So there you have it."

"That's it?"

"Never underestimate a father's sense of duty to protect his daughter."

"So you didn't do anything."

"Being handsome is a sin."

"I don't see the humour," Basch fon Ronsenburg narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "They're going to be out there, still looking for you."

"Yes, they are," Balthier agreed and pulled his shirt over his head. "What's your point?"

"My point is that what happened in the Cerobi Steppe could easily happen again. And next time…" Basch paced to his right and flung an arm in aggravation. "Next time, _I _won't be there to carry you back to Archades. Next time, you won't have a chance."

Balthier huffed. "I'm glad you have such faith in me, my dear heroic knight. I appreciate what you did for me, alright?" He grabbed his vest, "Don't rub it in my face," he added with a grumble. Basch was about to reprimand him for being so proud but stopped himself. Would _he_ not feel the same? Would not _his_ pride be damaged if Balthier was forced to carry him, bleeding all over his shoulder, all the way to Archades?

No. He would be eternally grateful. He would gladly thank Balthier and offer him any service in return. But that was Basch. Balthier is his own man. They were both so different.

"I didn't mean to hold it above you," Basch apologized like a loyal dog who had overstepped its boundaries. Balthier was playing with his gun distractedly.

"Yes, well, you're right. I suppose I owe you," he put his gun in his holster. Balthier looked up at Basch with a simple, straightforward expression.

"No, you don't owe me anything. Forget about it," Basch shook his head and ran a gloved hand through his short, blonde hair. He had actually hoped to discuss leaving with them, for a short period of time anyways, to Rabanastre. Balthier could hide from the headhunters there, and he would probably feel more at ease around people he knew. Vaan, Penelo, Ashe. It was a somewhat selfish thought, though. It had been so long since Basch had seen the two thieves and the Princess – now Queen. But even as his thoughts returned to Ashe, there was another pang of jealousy.

"What?" Balthier arched an eyebrow and peered at Basch. "You don't want anything in return?" Balthier stepped closer. They were inches away now. Basch's head was turned aside. "It's alright if you do. I don't mind. It's only…gentlemanly, isn't it? To thank the man who saved you."

Basch felt Balthier's breath hot against his cheek and he turned. The sky pirate's face was right in front of him, and basically level with his own. Men only got this close to him when they were threatening him. What was Balthier trying to do? Whatever it was, it made Basch's eyes droop and he opened his mouth to speak. "I…I don't need anything in return," he said, faltering.

"Oh please," Balthier replied sarcastically. Arrogantly. "I've seen the looks you've been giving me. And you've been at my bedside more often than Fran. How do you explain that?" Basch looked confused and shook his head.

"I don't know what you're trying to say. I was keeping you company. I mean, we are…well, we _are_…friends," Basch explained. Balthier gazed into his eyes. Always remaining cool, his face expressionless. Basch looked back at him, not fully understanding what Balthier was getting at, but he felt uncomfortably warm.

"I see," Balthier said finally. "Well then, friend, would you mind assisting me?" he pulled his vest over his head after taking a few steps back. Basch was still confused about what just happened, and he released a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. Basch awkwardly stepped forward and helped tighten Balthier's vest until it was snug against his torso. The pirate then walked past him to the mirror again. "Many thanks." After a moment, he turned again, this time for the door. "Perhaps we'll see each other again soon," he waved nonchalantly behind him and walked out. Basch stood there, holding his helmet under one arm, looking at the empty doorway.

* * *

"We should go into Eruyt Village. The headhunters will not enter there," Fran suggested. Balthier sat down in the pilot's seat.

"Fran, please," Balthier shook his head. "We're not going to just hide. Hiding won't change anything, we'll have to come out eventually," he flipped on a couple of switches. Fran sat in the seat beside him.

"What do you suggest then, sky pirate?" Fran questioned. Balthier glanced at her and shrugged.

"We just go on as we usually would, of course. Let's seek some rare beauty, shall we? We were on the hunt for a treasure, after all. Let's finish it," the _Strahl_ came to life and they rose slowly into the air. "You know, I –" Balthier and Fran lurched forward and a light flashed on the ship's board. Balthier cursed under his breath. "Can't get a moment's peace, can I?" He muttered irately and slammed forward on the accelerator.

* * *

"He is gone so soon?" Larsa asked, a little surprised, perhaps even annoyed. Basch stood beside his chair in the lounge and nodded.

"Yes. Early this afternoon, they left for the _Strahl_. About four hours ago now," Basch glanced out the window. It was still quite sunny outside. Larsa sighed and shrugged his small shoulders.

"Well that's foolish of them," he fanned through a book from the library behind him. "They'll be caught. Very likely killed. Depends on the headhunter who claims them first. And I'm sure they've been hanging around Archades with the last sightings of him being very close-by. Yes. I'm afraid they may find themselves running into an ambush," Larsa shook his head like a wizened old man. Basch's face was now etched with new lines of fear and concern, and again exhaustion. Because he didn't know what to do. "They should just remain hidden," Larsa concluded.

Basch rubbed his forehead and sighed. "No, no, that would be impossible. To cage a sky pirate? He would either find a way out or worse." Larsa turned his head and looked at Basch innocently.

"What do you mean worse?"

"Balthier couldn't handle being caged. Trust me."

* * *

"Fran, we can't lose them," Balthier cursed through gritted teeth. Fran held tight to the controls.

"I can hide the _Strahl_ from view, but not while she is moving. I can hide her and we can go on foot to someplace safe," Fran suggested. The _Strahl_ was hit again from the rear and the lights on the board flashed angrily. Balthier was all focus.

"We will not hide. We can hide the _Strahl_, but we should stand and fight, or flee. Hiding is not an option, Fran," Balthier was adamant. Fran nodded hesitantly and pointed.

"Take her around the bend then and we should have time to land before they see," she said. Balthier obeyed and soon they had completely stopped. Balthier sat up and gathered his things.

"Right. Now let's put a veil over her and get on with this nonsense," His boots made light taps as he walked down the hall. Fran remained seated until her magic had entirely covered the _Strahl_, then stood and hurried after her partner. The _Strahl_ could not be seen now. They didn't have to worry about her being stolen.

Fran caught up with Balthier and the sky pirate noticed her ears twitching and gave her a look. "What is it?" he asked her. Fran looked as if she was trying to figure something out herself, with her face turned slightly up, as if listening.

"The mist is thick here," she answered. "But…it is weak."

"Weak, eh? Well, I suppose that's not much to worry about then," and Balthier pressed the hatch and the doorway to the Strahl opened. As it opened, the mist entered, thick like heavy fog, startling both sky pirate and viera. "This is mist?" he asked as the hatch opened entirely.

"It is weak..." Fran trailed off. They stepped out of the ship and tried to get a look around.

"Can't see a damned thing," Balthier crossed his arms and looked every which way. "Can't even remember which way we're to be headed now." He looked to Fran.

"I do not like this. The mist, it seems…fake," she said, her ears still twitching.

"Well…Come on, this way," Balthier headed forward and Fran followed. Almost immediately, they stopped again. Balthier heard the click and felt the iron against his back but remained calm.

"Don't move," came a rasping voice from behind. "Or I'll shoot ya."

"_That's_ my ultimatum?" Balthier asked skeptically. He didn't wait for a reply. He quickly ducked to the side and grabbed the bangaa's gun arm, twisting it behind his back. The stranger yelped in pain and dropped his weapon. Fran notched an arrow to her bow and faced the mist.

"Balthier!" she called him to attention, "We are surrounded." Balthier looked up and around but could not see a thing. The heavy bangaa was still whining under his wrest.

"Son of a bitch, yore dead now!" the bangaa screeched. Balthier looked about and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He could see no one, but he heard them quite clearly.

"Alright prettyboy, come quietly!"

"Yore surrounded!"

"Come on, let 'im go and surrender. Or we'll finish off yer skimpy little friend!" there came a chorus of hearty laughs and the click of several guns. Balthier stared ahead, where the last voice had come from.

"Fran. Go," said Balthier with a serious expression. Fran made no movement to put down her bow. "Fran!" Balthier growled, and Fran looked at him, surprised. He did not return the look. "Get out of here," he hissed urgently. "NOW!"

And she was gone.

A series of gunshots went off when the viera mysteriously vanished into the fog. Balthier remained where he was, tall and grim with his gun to the bangaa. Several angry grunts and mutters came from the mist. "Yore friend's abandoned ye now," someone snickered.

"Hey. You came for _me_, right? Well I'm still here, aren't I, gentlemen?" Balthier's eyes darted to and fro, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement anywhere.

"Aren't you the saucy pirate!" someone retorted, laughing harshly. Someone from behind Balthier wolf-whistled and there came more, slow laughter.

"Filth," Balthier remarked under his breath.

"Jalka! Get 'im to let me go!" the bangaa he held captive shrieked. More laughter.

"Right then, sky pirate. Just drop mah friend there and yer gun, too. We'll treat ye nice enough," said the man in charge, obviously Jalka. He earned another round of laughter.

"Yeh, we won't bite! Hahaha!" "_I'll_ treatchu nice, sweetpea!"

Balthier sighed inwardly, then pushed the bangaa away from him and dropped his weapon. Instantly, there came into view several humes and bangaas with an array of guns, swords, and axes. Balthier watched as the largest of the humes, presumably Jalka, approached him threateningly. He felt a presence from behind and suddenly, everything went black.

* * *

**Please review! :)**


	3. Rising Action

**Wow guys, here it is: Chapter 3. I'm sorry it took so long to get this to you guys, I've been so busy with my first year in college and being in a play and (more excuses). But hey, it's finally here. It's not as long as the last two because I wanted to get it out here for you guys and I'm sure I'll get Chapter 4 finished soon. Please feel free to review. I would LOVE to hear some feedback, I haven't gotten a lot yet but the reviews I have received have really helped me to keep writing this fanfic. I thought about quitting several times. So if you have something to say, good or bad, go for it. **

**Enjoy, guys! 3**

* * *

Fran waited until the sounds of the headhunters' airships had died away before she stepped out of the Salikawood where she had hidden herself. She stood for a moment, letting the clear air surround her and sink into her bones. The deceptive mist was slowly dying away from around the veiled _Strahl_. Once she was sure of herself, Fran's long, tanned legs guided her swiftly to the entrance of the _Strahl_. With an exaggerated wave of the hand, she dispelled the veil and made her way into the airship.

* * *

Balthier woke and could have sworn his head had been split open. He didn't bother to stir or open his eyes but stayed where he was in a half-awake state, his head swimming.

"…Wot would 'e care as long as we get the pirate to 'im in one piece? Didn't give 'im nothing but a headache." Three headhunters sat in the cabin where Balthier lay motionless.

"Yeh, well I want this job done right," replied the largest of the three. Jalka eyed the other two suspiciously. One was particularly dirty with greasy, brown dreadlocks pulled back in a thick ponytail. If he were to bathe, his skin would be an entire shade lighter, and he sat with his blade in his mouth, chewing on the steel distractedly. The man standing in the corner of the cabin smiled with yellowed teeth at Jalka. He was a hairy, unshaven man with a stupid expression.

"The Judge wouldn't give a rat's ass if 'e arrived with a black eye or a bloody stump. 'E's just gonna kill 'im 'imself anyways," the smiling man laughed. The ship jerked slightly and the two standing humes staggered a bit. Jalka muttered something under his breath and turned around.

"Do wot ye like then. I've got more important things to worry about," Jalka growled, shutting the cabin door behind him with an angry thud.

"Ya hear that, Drell?" the hume wiped his dagger on his trousers. "Cap'n said to do wot we like." A smile similar to Drell's spread across his face. Drell cast an eye over the unconscious sky pirate lying on the cot.

"Can't 'ave any fun while he's knocked out, Vagear." Drell sniffed and glanced out of the triangular window beside him in the corner. Vagear stood up and crossed the room, standing just beside Balthier. He picked his teeth with the dagger and then looked at Drell.

"Says who?" he smiled. "Look," he traced the dagger's edge around Balthier's relaxed face. "'E can't put up a fight." Drell scoffed at his companion, crossing his arms and leaning further into his corner.

"_I_ was speakin' of fun with me knife. _Yer_ speakin' of fun with yer sword," Drell smiled at his own joke. Vagear leaned close to Balthier's face.

"As if the thought 'adn't crossed _yore _mind," Vagear ran his tongue across his teeth. "'E's just as pretty as any woman I've 'ad, heh heh."

"Even so," Drell argued, "It's not as good if the other 'un's unconscious."

"I've a feeling _I'll _bring 'im to 'is senses," Vagear clasped his greasy fingers around Balthier's belt.

Balthier's head was still throbbing and he felt as if gravity were pulling on him with more force than usual. He had heard the voices but their words only half registered. He tried to move his leg, but it felt as if it were pinned down. He began to get anxious when that feeling of gravity strengthened against his legs until they felt as if they were going to break. Balthier stirred, and then another sensation started him awake. A finger grazed the skin beneath Balthier's shirt and the sky pirate's eyes shot open. In one swift action, Balthier raised his leg up and rammed his knee into the headhunter's nose. There was an audible crack.

The scream that arose from the hume was bleating. "Yeaaagghh! 'E broke my nose! 'E broke my nose, Drell!" Drell was startled into action and grabbed Balthier's upper arm just as his feet touched the floor. With an angry breath of exertion, he threw the pirate against the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

"Where do ye think yer goin', sky pirate?"

Balthier's nose wrinkled. "You mind breathing in the other direction, my good man?" Balthier asked rebelliously. Drell's eye twitched and he threw Balthier against the wall again, this time with his hand clenched around his throat.

"You fuckin' cheek!" Drell cursed. Vagear came up from behind Drell, clutching his bloodied nose.

"Pin 'im to the floor, Drell! I'll teach that bastard who's in charge!" he barked. The blood spilling from his nose mixed with the grease and dirt on his skin and turned a dirty crimson. Drell dragged Balthier from the cot with his hand still around his neck, and pinned him to the floor, face-down. Balthier gasped and turned his face to the side. This couldn't happen. He couldn't let it happen. The pressure in his lungs became tighter again when he felt Vagear on top of him. His filthy hand grabbed onto his sides and his breath was beside his ear.

"Break my nose, will ye? Well I'll break you, pirate!" blood from his injury dripped onto the side of Balthier's face and he winced.

"How about you go wash your hands, come back later, and we'll see," Balthier answered with a snarl in his lip. Drell pushed him harder into the floor. Vagear's face was gone now and he felt his hands around his hips. Balthier arched his back, but Drell only pushed down harder. He tried kicking but his feet could not reach and his hands could only clutch at the floorboards. Vagear laughed hoarsely at his struggling and pulled at Balthier's trousers. Panic shot through Balthier's spine and his breathing paused.

The cabin door swung open. "Bring the pirate out!" came Jalka's voice. There was a slight pause when he noted the situation. "I don't care if you've 'ad yore fun or not, just get 'im up and out of 'ere!" Balthier only just noticed that the airship had stopped moving. They had reached their destination. He couldn't help but feel relieved. Vagear's weight left him and the hands that held him to the floor lifted him up instead and he was facing the Captain who stood in the doorway still. Jalka must have noticed Balthier's relief because he smiled toothily.

"Yore in for a lot worse'n that, pirate."

* * *

Basch sat at his desk and sighed, looking at the stack of papers he had neglected during Balthier's recovery. He tried to avoid the bureaucracy as much as humanly possible. But it wasn't possible in his position. Larsa entered the room as Basch was reading through a document. Larsa walked primly to the desk and sat at the chair beside it, glancing at the tall, dark bookcase full of old books from Larsa's own library. Basch looked up from his papers and tried a smile on Larsa. Larsa looked back emotionlessly, proving the smile to be a failure. He would have to work on that. Basch sighed again. Larsa leaned forward.

"Something is troubling you, Gabranth."

Basch suddenly looked quite angry, but the expression vanished when he looked up at Larsa. "Please, my Lord, just call me Basch."

"Oh," Larsa glanced away from Basch, at the bookcase again, "Yes, sorry. I forget sometimes." The silence afterwards carried on for several long minutes as Basch continued to work and Larsa browsed his collection of books. The finely-dressed boy paced about the room, pretending to be patiently passing the time, until finally he turned to Basch again.

"_Basch,_" he emphasized the man's name. Basch looked up again. "I've been thinking. Maybe you should take some time off. Like a break or a vacation," Larsa suggested.

"I'm sorry, Lord Larsa, I have not been working as hard as of late…"

"No, I just think you should take some time away from the business in Archades for your own benefit. I know it can be dull for you. After all, you lived your life as a soldier before you took your brother's place, and now that Archades is at peace, things are very slow around here," Larsa explained.

"It is good that Archades is finally at peace."

"Of course it is, but you understand what I'm saying. I can see you're…well, I suppose I should say you seem restless since your friend showed up. Maybe you should spend some time in Rabanastre? It will do you good, I'm sure," Larsa smiled sweetly. Basch was surprised. Larsa's intuition was astounding. He knew Basch's feelings better than he did himself.

"But what of you?" Basch asked hurriedly.

"Well, I thought of perhaps joining you. But I think my own journey is going to have to wait, there's far too much I have to learn now," he said resolutely. Basch smiled.

* * *

It was late at night now. Basch slept peacefully, knowing that in the morning he would be back in Rabanastre. He would take a public airship, and he would finally wear his old clothes again, instead of that big tin suit he had to constantly sweat in. He had hoped, though, that the three of them could have returned together. Basch, Balthier, and Fran. How long had it been since he had ridden in the _Strahl_? Balthier could really fly her. Basch smiled in his sleep. What a pirate. Basch thought of his handsome, roguish face, and the few conversations they had had together. He thought of arguing with him two years ago, about directions or his superior attitude. And he thought about fighting alongside him. That sky pirate was definitely a force to be reckoned with; something you wouldn't know just by looking at him. Then he thought about Balthier lying helpless with his hand clutching his neck. Balthier dying on his back. And then Balthier pretending nothing had happened, conversing in the recovery ward…And then Balthier angry, his pride hurt. Basch had never seen him angry before. He had also never been so close. He remembered turning his face and being only inches away from Balthier's.

But…why these strange feelings? Nervousness, confusion, and…warmth. Hot. He felt very hot. And now Balthier was leaning even closer. Any closer and their faces would collide.

"Basch."

Basch's breath hitched and he tossed in his bed. As he did so, his hand smashed against the end table and he woke with a start, breathing heavily as if he had been holding his breath. He was sweating and he flung the blankets from him and leaned back, catching his breath. He remembered just whose face had penetrated his dreams and his brow furrowed in confusion. He had obviously just been dreaming of him in hopes to clear the confusion and mystery that surrounded his pirate friend. Basch wiped his forehead and sighed.

"Basch."

Basch's eyes shot open again and he took to his feet, his eyes darting to the dark corners of the room, not bothering to rest on the figure which was standing right in front of the open window. Fran stepped towards Basch.

"You have to come with me," she said.

"Fran?" Basch relaxed. "How did you get in here?"

"That does not matter."

"Is Balthier here, too?" Basch glanced at the window.

"No, he is – "

Basch was already gathering his clothes. "Hold on a moment and I'll slip on some clothing." Fran waited patiently as Basch changed, though not into his Judge armour, but rather his old clothing with his red vest.

"I was planning on going to Rabanastre in the morning for a time. Before you two had left, I had been thinking that the three of us could head there together. Balthier could wait there until the headhunters gave up the hunt, after all," Basch rambled as he dressed.

"Why are you going to Rabanastre?" Fran asked.

"Just…for a change, I guess. And to see old friends, of course."

Fran reflected on this a moment as Basch put on his boots. She watched him emotionlessly and spoke again. "I'm afraid I will be troubling you then." Basch glanced up at her.

"Troubling me?" Basch shook his head. "Not at all. We could…" he finished lacing his boots and looked at Fran questioningly. "Hold on…Where did you say Balthier was?"

"That is why I am afraid I will be troubling you," Fran answered. Basch stood and stared at the viera who looked back without betraying any thought or emotion.

"Balthier?"

"He has been taken."

* * *

**Please review, guys! Like I said before, feedback really encourages me to keep going with this fanfic so anything is appreciated! Hope you guys liked this installment, I'll try to get the next one out soon!**


	4. Crossing the Threshold

In the morning, Larsa would find a sealed letter on his desk from the Judge Magister expressing his apologies for leaving sooner than they had planned and justifying his case by simply stating:

_Our sky pirate has been caged. I will see what I can do to free him. Please do not worry._

_-Judge Gabranth_

Fran and Basch fled quickly and silently to the _Strahl_. Basch was not about to lose time explaining himself to some young soldier who recognized his face. Instead, they barreled through the streets like smoke until arriving at the airship docked just outside of Old Archades.

"I can take us to Rozarria, but I do not know where to find him," said Fran, sitting in Balthier's pilot seat and flicking some switches just above her. Basch stood a few feet back.

"What do you mean? We should confront the man who sent out the headhunters. Judge Heradarr, right? And his daughter. We can just set everything straight and he'll have to understand," and Basch contemplated the advantage he might have had in keeping his Judge armour for such a meeting. Fran looked back at Basch through the reflection in the windshield.

"What are you talking about?" she asked curiously. Basch looked back at her, confused.

"I'm talking about just explaining Balthier's situation. He is innocent, after all," Basch answered and walked to the co-pilot's seat. He saw Fran close her eyes and sigh, mumbling something angrily.

"That man is a fool," she said finally and looked over at Basch. "What did he tell you?" Basch's shoulders dropped.

"He…He said that there was a misunderstanding. He had met a Judge's daughter in a tavern and she had then told her father of her…infatuation with him," Basch sat down on the chair beside him, never breaking eye contact with the viera. "He said the Judge was trying to protect his daughter."

"He has lied to you," said Fran bluntly, and she looked away from Basch's crestfallen stare. "I am sorry. But I am sure he had some good intention in doing so, the hume that he is."

"Well," Basch's voice grew louder, "What is it then?" he asked, suddenly angry.

"I do not know."

Basch looked bewildered and stood up. "What do you mean you don't know? He's being chased by headhunters. Somebody out there wants him dead. Why?" he yelled in his uncertainty. Fran was controlling the airship now and Basch stood his ground shakily as they rose into the air.

"I do not know. Now sit or you will fall over."

* * *

"This is quite unnecessary, gentlemen." The men holding Balthier's shoulders as they walked, stopped just short of a door in the ground. Another of the headhunters knelt to grab hold of the iron handle and lifted the door to reveal nothing but darkness. Balthier felt his throat swelling and he looked at the hole in the ground with wide eyes.

"Did anyone bring a lantern, perchance?" he muttered sarcastically out of the side of his mouth, raising an eyebrow at the man to his right. Then the arms holding him pushed forward and Balthier gasped, arching his body back, away from the cellar. "Steady on, how about we draw straws, eh?"

"Wudya shut 'im up? What's takin' ye so long!" Jalka's voice screamed from behind them. Balthier received a quick kick to the middle of his back and the arms supporting him immediately let go as he fell forward into the darkness.

Balthier sucked in a breath of air and then coughed hoarsely. He turned his head to look up just as the door above was shut. He stayed where he was, preferring not to look foolish, rushing to the closing door as if that would make a difference. Instead, once the door was closed, he stood. The floorboards were only inches above his head and he could barely make out the shadows of the bodies above. Moving to his left, he stopped beneath one of the shadows, hearing hushed voices above, and he rapped on the floorboards.

"Excuse me, do you think you could send one of your chaps to fetch a pillow or two?" he called. Jalka, above him, stomped furiously and a cloud of dust entered Balthier's lungs. He coughed again and waved the dust away. "Alright then, shall I expect them soon?" and this received a large amount of shouting and thumping around from above until finally, there was a great slam and the voices were gone. Balthier remained where he was until he was sure there was nothing else to be heard, and then looked about him.

There was nothing. Or at least, nothing he could see. Everything was black except for the cracks of the floorboards above him. Balthier frowned and sighed audibly. "This is a very fine _fucking_ mess!" Balthier let out a curse and kicked at the ground angrily. Quickly, he took a deep breath and regained his composure. "No matter," he muttered and began to sift through his pockets until he found a matchbox. "A leading man always come prepared," he whispered to himself, drawing a very thin book from his back pocket as well.

Balthier lit the match, striking it against the floorboards above and held the match to his book. On the cover was written "Archetypes". He flipped through the book, muttering to himself, and stopped near the end. "Ordinary world. Call to adventure. Refusal of the call," and here he laughed sarcastically. "Meeting with the mentor? Crossing the threshold. Hmm," Balthier glanced over the rest. "I suppose this would be crossing the threshold according to the Good Book. Did I skip over my meeting with the mentor? Well that's a shame," he wrinkled his nose. "But I suppose any good story will mix and match. Says here: Ordeal. '…confronts his most difficult challenge, and experiences _death_.' I think I'll skip over that stage, thank you," and Balthier closed the book and replaced it in his pocket. The match had reached the end of its life and Balthier dropped it just as it singed his finger.

He struck another and began to walk forward, looking for a wall. When he found it, it was cold and earthy. He muttered another curse under his breath. He had been hoping to be even just slightly above ground. He crouched beside the wall (still too proud to willingly dirty his good clothing) and let the match die out. He stared into the darkness for several long minutes, seemingly hours, before his eyes began to adjust. As much as they could, anyway. Looking around him, Balthier saw that the brightest light came from the far corner to his left. He scrambled over and found that the crack in the floorboards was a little larger than the others. It had been chewed by rats and was almost big enough for his hand to fit through.

Balthier smirked. "You can never ground a sky pirate."

* * *

"Help me to understand." Basch watched Fran as she navigated the airship through the dark skies.

"There isn't much I can say," she answered. Basch sighed.

"Just tell me everything the two of you know, and tell me everything that happened to you up until the headhunters began to chase you," Basch elaborated.

"We were completing a quest we had been on for several days. It was nothing important, we were searching for a trident. An old man in the Mosphoran Highwaste told us it would be worth quite a bit. He said he had found it himself several years ago but it was stolen on his journey. He said it was a bandit dressed in Rozarrian robes. That is what led us to Rozarria." Fran spoke in a straightforward fashion, keeping her eyes on where she was flying. Her eyes were well-accustomed to the darkness. Outside, Basch had noticed and remembered that her eyes gave an eerie glow in the night, like an animal.

"Then this is all about treasure?" Basch leaned back in his chair and raised a hand to his eyes in frustration.

"No," Fran answered. Basch lowered his hand slightly and looked at her. She did not continue her thought. Basch had never realized before just how difficult it was to talk to the viera.

"Why don't you think so?" he asked gruffly.

Fran's ear twitched. It seemed Basch was equally irritating her with his constant questioning. "Because there was no valuable trident. We found it, but it was only a rusty, low-grade weapon. We did not bother to take it. Balthier said the old man meant sentimental value." Basch was getting impatient and he leaned forward again.

"Then what happened?"

"We rested in a tavern. That is when Balthier saw the hunt placed for his capture."

"So they had it posted in the tavern?"

"Yes. It did not explain the situation, though."

"Of course not," Basch mumbled and they fell silent. Basch thought hard for any solution to their problem. He had never been placed in such a role, though; to be the one who thought things out and came up with answers. Instead of thinking of solutions, he could only think of more questions. He sighed in his frustration. Fran did not spare him a glance, but did break the silence.

"He did keep the hunt," she said. Basch looked at her.

"He kept the hunt?" Basch didn't fully understand. Fran lifted a hand from the controls and pointed beside Basch's chair. He followed her gesture and saw the frayed piece of parchment stuck to the wall below. He ripped it off and brought it into the light. "He took it so that nobody else would come looking for him?"

"No. He said the drawing of him was very flattering," Fran answered matter-of-factly.

* * *

It was sickly warm in the master bedroom. A candle was lit in the far corner, away from the grand, canopied bed. The rest of the room was dark at this late hour; the red, silk curtains even blocked out the dim starlight from outside. A man sat beside the bed, his glittering blue eyes piercing through the air between him and the frail, old hume covered in luxurious, velvet blankets. The man was middle-aged, rather well-built and sported a thin stripe of a beard on the edge of his jaw. This man watched the old one as a lion would his prey, ready to pounce. And he sat still as a statue. Only the envious twinkle in his eye gave him away.

He had been sitting there for quite some time. Before the elderly man had even fallen into slumber, and now lingering afterward. This always made quite an impression with the nobles in Rozarria. They called him a saint. A selfless soul. And the older ones raised their voices intentionally, saying: "I only hope that my own relations will one day give so much of themselves to comfort me, the way Parsion comforts Lord Ghestis."

"And he's not even closely related, is he?" someone would ask.

"Not at all. Something rather obscure. He was married to Wenifred Ghestis. I believe she was the descendant of the Lord's grandfather's cousin."

"What a thoughtful man," someone would smile and sigh.

"He must be after the Lord's title. Not to mention the Guestis fortune." This person might not have been seen again for a week or so.

The bedroom door opened gently and a sliver of light stole inside, laying itself across the foot of the bed. The large man in the doorway looked immediately to the threatening figure beside the bed. "Parsion?" he hissed. There came no answer, only the sudden, hot gaze of the vulture in question. "Come out here," the large man whispered. The predator stood and silently made his way around the bed. The man in the doorway backed away as Parsion exited the bedroom, closing the door behind him without so much as a creak.

"What is so important, _Don_?" Parsion spat out his name with some effort. Don was not phased.

"They're out there, Parsion. They say they wanna talk to you about the reward." The fat man's voice was deep, but dumb and bumbling.

"_Who_, Don? _Who_ could be so important right now that you drag me from my dying…" he faltered, and for lack of a more intimate term, he continued, "_relative_'s side?"

The poisonous speech had no effect on Don. "The headhunters, Parsion." And Parsion stopped and his eyes grew softer, more curious. "They said they've got him." And from curious, they grew to a new level. They grew hungry. "They said they've got the pirate."


	5. Reunion

**Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me, Balthier, and Basch for so long! I present to you now, chapter 5!**

**Enjoy~! (and review?)**

* * *

_Three weeks earlier_

His lips were dry and cracking and he smacked them together slowly, gesturing with a crooked, pale finger to the pitcher of water near the window from which no sunlight filtered through due to the thick, silk curtains. A tall, gaunt man standing by reached for the pitcher and poured Lord Ghestis a glass. A tiny pair of delicate glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose, and he walked cautiously, as if avoiding booby traps on the way to the Lord's bedside.

Lord Ghestis gulped graciously and the tall man stood aside, holding up a small collection of papers again and studying them, adjusting his glasses carefully. "Now, my Lord, as I was saying," he spoke softly and lethargically. "It is only a precaution, as you know. Something must be done and as it is, you're the only man to do it. There could be a great number of difficulties if an heir is not named." He lifted a few papers at a time, "As it is, your great nephew is still listed here as the heir to the Ghestis title and fortune. Uh, however, he has been deceased for two years now. You can see how this poses a difficulty, yes?"

Lord Ghestis breathed slowly and achingly, his face a mask of wrinkles. He looked to all the world a dusty corpse, with his eyes shut and his jaw slack. The gaunt man looked over his glasses and paused for a response from the old man.

"My Lord?" he asked lazily. Lord Ghestis merely nodded.

"I don't mean to be a bother to you, My Lord," came another voice from just beside Lord Ghestis. It was clear and logical. The voice of an intelligent gentleman. This gentleman laid a hand on the old man's. "But it's not that he means for you to give up anything right now. It's only just that, with your ill health, it's only _safe_ that we get things like this out of the way. There are two options and that is if you sign that your next of kin receives the nobility, which of course is the easiest way to go and causes no problems, or you could ignore the situation. In the latter case, your title and fortune will still most likely find its way to your next of kin but of course there are issues that come along without your formal consent. Many of the nobles will probably try to seize bits of the Ghestis fortune themselves, and others might argue that because you did not give your consent in writing, the Ghestis line should just completely die out. They will make it hard for us, my Lord."

Lord Ghestis turned slightly and opened his lackluster, brown eyes. "Parsion," he croaked, "You don't have to explain to me," he smacked his dry lips again and nodded at the tall man. "I will name a living heir, of course, Mr. Silmen. I know I am dying now. You don't have to tell me." The Lord's body's shook and he coughed raucously, his body stiff. Silmen approached the bed again, this time handing the papers and pen over to the shriveled, old man, and then offering a book upon which to write on. The two men sat in silence as the great nobleman began to write and sign. Parsion glanced over at Silmen and could not contain the gleeful smile in his eyes. Silmen nodded stiffly to him.

"Here you are," he pushed the documents away from him. Before Silmen could retrieve them, Parsion snatched them up and read. Silmen took a step back, almost sheepishly and straightened his coat.

"My apologies for disturbing you, my Lord," he spoke in a tired voice. Lord Ghestis did not answer, but closed his eyes again. Silmen looked again at Parsion and found his face in complete shock. Silmen blinked, adjusting his glasses and cleared his throat. "Is there a problem, Parsion?" he asked. Parsion shot a look of daggers at Silmen, which caught the lanky man off guard and he let out a gasp. Parsion knelt again at Lord Ghestis's side.

"My Lord," he growled, his patience lost, "Your mind is going. The line you speak of has ended. They're all dead! What we need is a _living_ heir!"

"Don't shout at _me_, boy," Ghestis opened his eyes to reveal a little fighting spirit. It did not remain long, though, and he closed them again. "I am no imbecile." His voice was going. "That line is not dead; you only think it is because you don't know any better."

"Explain yourself then!" Parsion fumed, leaning on the bed. Silmen took a few strides back.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Parsion. I will pass on and my next of kin will receive my title and my fortune. That's the way it is," he breathed painfully and nodded, "Right, Mr. Silmen?" Parsion's eyes were burning and they seared their way over to Silmen's pathetic figure.

"Um, well, yes, my Lord," he answered.

"Alright then." Parsion's hand wrapped around the old man's upper arm. "Where is this heir, eh? If there's an heir from this family," he shook the papers, "then where the hell is he! _Who_ the hell is he!"

Lord Ghestis smacked his lips and let out a deep breath. Parsion shook him by the arm, but not hard enough to do any damage. "If you…" he winced and his voice dwindled to a whisper now and started again. "Ask the sky pirate," he breathed heavily, "He will know."

"Sky pirate?" Parsion looked bewildered. "What would a sky pirate know?"

Lord Ghestis only nodded. "He will know."

"What's his name? Tell me the pirate's name!" he growled.

"He…travels with a," he cleared his throat but it didn't help much, "a viera partner." He nodded again. "He will know who the heir is."

"And is he the only one?" Parsion shook the old man again to keep him from falling asleep. Lord Ghestis winced and just nodded. Parsion stood, and then approached Silmen threateningly. "You will destroy these documents and forget everything about this heir, do you understand?" Lord Ghestis had drifted off to sleep. Silmen nodded fearfully and took the papers.

"But…Parsion, even if I destroy the documents, the title and fortune will still go to the rightful heir." Parsion stormed towards the bedroom door.

"That's why I'm going to catch this _sky pirate_ and figure out who this heir is. And when I do, we'll get rid of him," he swung the door open.

"But," Silmen took a quick step forward, "But what if the pirate won't say anything?" Parsion stopped to throw Silmen a look.

"He'll talk, Silmen. And then we'll finish _him_, too." He left the room with a loud crash of the door.

* * *

"How familiar are you with Rozarria?" Basch asked as he kept his eyes tracing the signs of the buildings to his right and left. Basch and Fran stalked the streets of Rozarria swiftly, but carefully. It was very early in the morning and the sun had yet to peak over the horizon. Therefore, the streets were nearly empty.

"Not familiar enough," Fran answered stoically. Basch still held onto the headhunter's bill with Balthier's face on it. They were searching for the place mentioned on the bottom of the paper: BlueRoyal Estate. Basch's mind automatically began filtering out any of the buildings that weren't blue but soon realized that the name probably did not correspond to the color of the structure. The grid system of Rozarria was that of hundreds of V's and in order to not miss their point of destination, they had to constantly double back and check diagonal streets.

"This isn't good," Basch muttered, his eyes following an older gentleman who passed by in the opposite direction. "We can't just keep wandering around. Who knows what might have happened to him by now." Fran did not look over at Basch, but after a few more strides, she stopped and looked around. Basch stopped, too, and saw Fran looking at a drowsy Seeq leaning against a closed meat shop. Basch hesitated, then made his way over to the Seeq.

"Excuse me," Basch stood directly in front of the stranger. The Seeq blinked quickly a few times, then stood up straight and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry," Basch apologized mechanically. "My friend and I…we're searching for a place called BlueRoyal?"

The Seeq looked behind him at Fran, who stared back with glowing eyes in the early morning darkness. He looked at Basch again. "That's a viera," he said stupidly. Basch just stared back at him, waiting for an answer to his question. The Seeq sniffed and lightly scratched his oversized stomach. "Well you're obviously not from around here." Basch still did not reply. He had no time to chatter with curious townsfolk. The Seeq shrugged. "Well," he sighed, "You're on the wrong side of the city, for sure. I've never been there myself, of course, but everyone knows BlueRoyal is in the northern area of Rozarria, I don't even know why you'd be searchin' down here. Where are you – "

"Thank you," Basch interrupted and quickly went back to Fran and headed north.

* * *

Balthier's hands were bleeding and full of tiny splinters. With his brows furrowed and his skin glistening with sweat, he pulled with all of his strength on a frayed floorboard he had been digging at for the last hour or so. He stopped and breathed heavily, stretching out his worn fingers. With an audible exhale of breath, he reached up, grabbed on and tried again. He grunted in exertion and the muscles in his arms flexed dangerously. Finally, the board snapped and Balthier shouted out in pain when a sliver of wood slammed straight into his left palm. The board fell with a thump to the floor and Balthier dropped into a crouch, holding his bleeding hand and gritting his teeth.

He held his hand out, looking at it with the help of the light he had salvaged from above and surveyed the damage. The thick sliver looked to be about three inches long. "Well that's not pretty," he muttered and carefully reached towards the wound with his other hand. He grabbed the sliver but immediately let go and winced. "Oh that feels wonderful," he grumbled. With a sigh, he grabbed the splinter again and very slowly pulled the piece of wood out of his palm; his teeth gritted as if they would shatter. Once the sliver was removed, he patted his pockets until he found his handkerchief which he wrapped around his wounded hand, using his good hand and his teeth to tie a knot.

Once the bandage was secure, he looked back up at the hole he had made above him. Balthier reached up and grabbed around the edges of the hole, ignoring the pain in both of his torn up hands. He lifted himself up carefully and peeked over the edge into the shady room above. The room was empty. He allowed himself a roguish smirk before lifting himself further out of the cellar. The hole in the floorboards was still very small and Balthier really had to squeeze himself through, the most difficulty being at his shoulders. He tore himself free, though, earning himself more bruises and scratches in the process.

He took a better look around and figured that the little building he was in used to be a shop. Now, though, it was obviously being used as headquarters for Jalka's band of hunters. There were several bills posted on walls and lying on the floor, all with drawings of faces or groups of people. On one side of the room, behind a desk which might have once housed the shopkeeper and his adding machine, there were a stash of weapons and bits of clothing. One leather holster in particular caught Balthier's eye and he quickly slunk over and retrieved his gun, checking to make sure it hadn't already been taken by one of the headhunters and replaced with something useless.

Balthier strapped on his holster again and with a wary glint in his eye, raced over to the back window. There was the smallest bit of light outside now, like a light blue haze that quietly penetrated the darkness. Balthier unlatched the window and drew it open, nimbly leaping over the sill and landing on the outside of the building, in the streets of Rozarria.

"Hey!" Balthier turned sharply and alertly, ducking to the side, and with one swift action, he drew his gun and shot the bangaa right between the eyes. The bangaa's mace fell from his hand, followed by his body. Balthier muttered a curse under his breath and his eyes darted about for the quickest escape route as he heard raised voices from the other side of the building. He took off at full speed to his left, towards an alley. As he came to the other side of the building, however, something hit him hard and he was launched to the side, scrambling in the air. He hit the ground with a loud thud and an exhale of breath.

Balthier immediately found himself in a scramble. It was a Hume who had launched himself straight at the sky pirate. As the man loomed over him, Balthier grabbed his shirt collar with both hands and kicked straight out from below. The headhunter flung backwards over Balthier, and the force of the kick brought Balthier over with him, only now he was pinning the hunter. He landed him two hard punches to the face and then attempted to get back up and run for it before he was swarmed by the rest of the headhunters.

* * *

Jalka led Parsion and Don through the unlit streets, taking long, purposeful strides. He allowed himself to look back at the well-dressed men and pass an arrogant sneer. Don was not fazed by the look, but Parsion narrowed his eyes at Jalka the third time it happened, and there was no fourth. Don held a lantern out in front of him, though it did little illuminate their way.

"How far is this place now?" Parsion muttered spitefully. He didn't trust the headhunters. Jalka did not look back, but scoffed.

"Too much walkin' for yer royal feet, eh? It's just past this street, don't worry yore pretty little 'ead," Jalka grinned. Parsion glared daggers at the back of the hunter's head. Jalka must have felt it, because he picked up the pace suddenly. But then Parsion heard what Jalka must have heard.

"What the hell do ye mean 'e got out?" a voice shouted in the distance.

"This way!"

"There he is, 'e's buggerin' off!" There came a shout of voices, a scramble of running feet, and a crash. Jalka ran forward and Parsion and Don followed suit until they were before a shabby hut. Jalka reached out and grabbed the nearest hunter and brought him close to his face.

"What the hell is going on!" he spat and the hunter cringed.

"The sky pirate's run off!" he yelped and pointed down the street behind the hut "'E's that way! But we're already on 'is tail, 'e can't get away!" Jalka let go of the smaller headhunter and unsheathed a shortsword with a serrated edge.

* * *

Fran stopped, reaching out a hand to touch Basch's upper arm, causing him to stop as well. He looked at her. She stood looking into the distance, her ears twitching.

"What is it?" Basch asked.

"I heard something," she answered in a quiet voice. Basch did not, though, and he looked around.

"It should be dawn soon, we should keep looking…" And then he heard it, too. The sound of raised voices. Angry voices. And a crash. Without a word, Fran took off in the direction, and trusting her better sense of hearing and direction, Basch followed frantically. The voices became closer and closer, and the thought crossed Basch's mind that maybe it wasn't such a smart idea to get close to all the commotion. But this thought was pushed to the back of his mind by another, more important thought. Balthier.

"Stop," Fran whispered and they stopped just outside of an alleyway. They could see the other side of the street now because the sun was just peeking through the buildings, casting a lazy mist of sunshine through the roadways. Basch listened. The voices were coming straight toward them. Soon, only the shadows of the alleyway would separate them and an angry group of headhunters. And it was possible that Balthier had escaped from them a long time ago and was hiding safely somewhere else...

The first figure appeared out of the morning fog, illuminated by the hazy sunlight.

"Balthier!" Basch shouted, and the figure stopped, looking straight into the darkness of the alley and making eye contact with Basch. An unexplainable strain of fear suddenly grabbed Balthier in the pit of his stomach, and for a split second, Basch could have sworn it was panic that filled the pirate's eyes. But it immediately disappeared. The raised voices were uncomfortably close now, and Basch took a step forward.

Just then, Balthier gracefully raised a finger to his lips. _Quiet_, it said, and Fran stopped Basch from getting any closer. Basch glanced questioningly at Fran and then back at Balthier outside of the alleyway. Balthier lowered his hand and winked at the older man. And then the voices were upon him and Balthier was set upon by three headhunters. One knocked the wind out of him and Balthier stood, holding his injured side and gasping for breath. The hunters quickly chained his wrists together behind him. Another two headhunters came into view, followed by two finely dressed gentlemen who looked around cautiously, not wanting to be seen. Fran's hand was squeezing Basch's wrist so tightly that her knuckles were almost white. The largest of the headhunters stepped up to Balthier and with the hilt of his shortsword, struck him across his head. Balthier went limp.

* * *

**Reviews, anyone?**


End file.
